


Dante's personal Hell

by Ethan



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lemon, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethan/pseuds/Ethan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trish sighed:He was like a living corpse throughout the last 2 months but then i mention his brother being in danger and he is all raving and kicking ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A bolt from the blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nimlinven](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nimlinven).



> Warnings: Yaoi!, slight AU cause I had to fill in what capcom haven't yet. (alternative storyline not anymore?), OOC… You know, every Dante in every DMC is somehow OOC from the others. So this is just my version of him, I tried staying close to dmc3.
> 
> FULL SUMMARY, or rather WHAT TO EXPECT(skip if lazy): this gets rather angsty sometimes with suicidal themes but i tried to dilute it with humour, and it always ends with the best things possible. My objective was to make them all suffer and then present Dante and Vergil with a pink - nope, rather black leather-y - happy end. its a joke, no serious bdsm here for now. my characters can have mental breakdowns and get their bodies into bloody mess, that they really tend to do. No matter who fucks whom, it is Vergil/Dante and none other, believe me! other-way fucks (there are few) are used for angst (what else, really?). and there is Angst with an A! not just 'i should go die', but i really tried to dig deep and explain things like vergil's craving for power, dante's run for vergil at the end of dmc3, all family issues... it is hell, but i tried to make this story as closely based on the original, as possible. what else... i am a hungry-for-reviews hamster. feed me?
> 
> NOTES: Storyline: I disregard DMC 4 and 2, 2 for not having Verge, 4 – for Nero. Until Capcom tells us who the hell he is. So forget there was such thing as the 4 game. I LUV Dante from part 3. Well, he's smokin' hot anywhere, but for YAOI – my choice is definitely the DMC3 punk. Or you can imagine him somehow slightly more mature (which makes a dmc1 Dante pop up in my head...). I hope he does mature as the story goes =P So, to save him his teenage-ness and youth, timeline: the events of DMC3 are considered to fit within a week, DMC1 takes place in a month after defeating Arkham and also is crammed in 1 week (seems possible to me). Approx 2 month after the end of DMC1 the fic starts. (and forget anime series. hell, I am into the original GAMES here.)
> 
> The story is only closely based on the original, small details may be twisted and a little bit different.
> 
> ANGST IN THE BEGINNING ENDS QUICKLY! – was written here. DON'T BELIEVE. But humour IS introduced.
> 
> " " – thoughts
> 
> ' ' - dialogue

As soon as Dante woke up, a hangover struck him at full force. Along came the horrible thirst. And his neck hurt like hell. Falling asleep on the goddamn purple couch was never a good idea.

He slowly sat up. The floor was covered with empty bottles tossed aside and paper wrappings left from fast food. It had been weeks since anybody tried to clean up the mess that still bore the name of 'Devil Never Cry'.

Weeks since the last mission. And now - no money, no work, no motivation whatsoever.

Clad in old worn-out jeans and a baggy blue shirt covered in oil stains and paint, Dante walked at a wavering gait to the back premises and then to the bathroom. He turned the tap on, took several slow greedy gulps of the cold water and, glaring at the mirror, he lazily started to scrape his cheeks with a razor. Man, he hated going unshaven. But well, shaving was as far as he got with taking care of himself. The tub was still left untouched; he did not even bother with a shower, the feel of hot water on his shoulders long forgotten. And never mind greasy uncut hair, the perpetual stink of alcohol and dark circles under his eyes. Nothing bothered Dante.

He did not care.

Dante sat on the edge of the tub and sighed. Time was said to be able to heal but he did not believe this crap. Every second of that damned day was imprinted in his memory, a stigma ever burning.

The image stood in front of his eyes as if it all happened just seconds ago.

Breathing heavily Vergil made several steps back and then – then he was falling. Falling to Hell. Dante shouted – almost shrieked – and rushed to catch his brother offering him a hand. In this simple gesture there was everything for Dante. He forgave Vergil for whatever sins the latter could have probably possibly committed, he forgave the pain and the hatred. He only wished his brother would not die.

The cold hollow glare of Vergil's eyes snapped Dante back to cruel reality and Yamato's blade cut through his hand. The sword tore his glove and the same moment something much sharper ripped through his heart, slicing it open. A great hole formed inside Dante's chest, one that he knew could never be filled. And with that Vergil was gone.

Dante's world shattered to dust.

There had never been a time like this. He had always known what was the right thing to do, had always known how to deal with his mistakes. This time he knew nothing. Vergil hated him, hated him for real, and Dante was lost. He never before considered all the brawls and quarrels he had with his brother to be true. Wasn't that a kind of a ritual among them, just a spiteful game for two?

That day Vergil showed him the truth: all Dante did was wrong. Insignificant misunderstandings and trivial squabbles – that was what Dante saw. But his brother had always been serious. When they met at the top of the tower, Vergil had already been lost for Dante, he did not want to listen anymore.

Sighing on the edge of the tub, Dante looked at his wrists. Numerous light scars covered his skin. It was on such days, while feeling stupid, unnecessary and useless, that Dante let himself drown in self-pity and slit his wrists. For several hours he would sit on the bathroom floor and watch crimson slowly spread over the tiles, wishing to cease to exist. Of course, he did not really want to die. The physical pain, however, helped him get over sorrow and anger. Dizzy from blood loss, Dante would imagine what Vergil would possibly say if he died. Maybe, just maybe, his brother would stop doing stupid things to get 'power'. Maybe Vergil would see that there is no other heir and no obstacle to get whatever it was he wanted. Would he be relieved?

However, later Dante would always stand up, bandage the wounds and let them heal. He could not let himself die; he had to make sure Vergil was fine. Until then, however, Dante could stay at his old place, with no money, no food, no nothing, and drag out the remainder of his miserable existence. No one would really care.

Dante stood up and went back to the couch. He had a bad feeling, and his intuition proved to be useful again. There was a knock at the door and without further warning, a female figure entered the former agency.

'Holy shit!' exclaimed Lady. She waved a hand in front of her nose as if it could exorcise the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. 'What a hellhole! How does he live in here…' She actually did not finish as she noticed Dante himself, sitting awkwardly on the couch as there was no other place free of litter in the room.

Lady was astonished. It was true people were saying that the agency closed up, but to see Dante like this… she was not prepared. He was all skin and bone, in dirty clothes, sordid and pitiful. But worst of all he looked lost and desperate.

'Hey there,' she called, lowering her sunglasses. 'How's it goin'?'

Dante did not answer. He just stared at her with dusk dull eyes as if not understanding her at all.

'Well… What happened?' Lady asked, troubled.

'Reminiscing,' slowly mouthed Dante. Why did he even bother answering?

'Now about what? Demons trying to occupy the human world? That morbid brother of yours?'

'Don't you dare talk in this way about my brother, bitch!' Dante snapped. He was now standing tall in front of her, fists clenched and rage evident in his eyes. 'Don't. You. Dare.'

Lady somehow managed to get out: 'Chill, Dante.' And he was gone back to amoeba state, falling clumsily back on the couch.

'If you don't want anything just leave'.

'Oh, right. Those signs started to appear around your place. Thought you might know what these letters mean.'

Lady walked up to Dante and gave him some photos.

He sat up abruptly. His intuition was never wrong and this time the signals earlier proved to be the beginning of some great trouble.

In the pictures Lady gave him the bloody lines on the walls read:

'brother, here

brother help me

deliver me brother

help

save

brother…'

'What is it?' Lady asked.

How was he supposed to answer such a question? 'It is my goddamn brother sending me love letters from Hell so that I go rescue him and then it all turns out to be a trap so that those stupid demons can jail me in the ninth circle?' There was no proof it was Vergil.

'Nothing serious really,' Dante said but he could not hide the trembling in his voice. 'Someone from down there is asking for help.'

'The blood?'

'Belongs to the one asking; that is to a demon. There should be no murders.'

'True, there are none. But why is a demon asking for help? This sounds ridiculous. Apart from that you look bloody freaked out. What have you not told me?'

'That is…' Dante mustered as much courage as he could being down and broken and all, and continued. 'It asks for help from some nameless 'brother''

'Oh. Maybe you should go have a look at the blood. Check if it matches yours.'

'Leave me alone,' snapped Dante back quite rudely. Lady knew better then comment further on the issue of blood relatives, so she put the copies of the photos on the floor near the couch and left.

Before closing the door she looked around Devil Never Cry once more. The devil arms were dusty and almost all covered with rust stains. There were spider webs in every corner. The room was a mess but an even greater mess was the man on the couch. Nothing mattered to him; only a mask of his devil-may-care attitude remained. The devil however, apparently did not care.

Lady did not want to know what exactly happened but she was absolutely sure of one thing: one stupid pride-obsessed devil had killed the strongest man ever. Killed Dante on the inside.

...

This stupid case of Lady's brought up too much.

Dante was trying to put on his old ruined red all-stars. He had not laced up any footwear for a very long time so it took him a while. Finally, avoiding the rubbish, he reached the door and went outside.

The moon was hiding behind the clouds and rain was pouring down, hissing as if in eternal pain. Not bothering to get some warmer clothes, Dante stepped into the rain and started walking. Water was cold and somehow soothing. It answered his need of physical suffering.

The demonic signs should be about a block away.

Dante was shivering from cold and all wet, when he finally got to the narrow side street where on the bricks was a dark brownish inscription. It was the one meaning 'deliver me brother'. Nervously Dante took a sip of whiskey he was clever enough to take with him. Then he slowly touched the dried up blood, that the rain would probably soon slowly wipe away.

And cursed. The line of blood under his fingers disappeared, absorbed by his skin and by the warmth in his heart Dante knew it belonged to Vergil.

His brother was alive, which was always good news. Considering how often they met. Dante slowly sat down on the pavement and smiled involuntary. After all, his brother survived. How was he? Was he at least a little bit human? Fighting Nelo Angelo again did not seem like an experience Dante could suffer through one more time. Did Vergil remember him?

What was he supposed to do? Dante got used to the thought that Vergil would never want to see him again. Got used to being hated. To being forgotten and forsaken. It took a while but he managed to deal with it. And now… Vergil asking for his fuckin' help? Even if it is not him… then some bastard had to be strong enough to get Vergil's blood. Then his brother would still need help. Shit.

Dante smashed the bottle at the wall and cut his hand on one of the splinters. Then he slowly wrote the letters of the language of his father, the letters he thought he would never ever remember:

'What do you need?' he finished the dark signs, blood mixed with streams of water running down the dirty wall. That should have been enough. Since the writing appeared in the human world already it meant that the enchantment had been done to make a connection. So his answer should have already showed up on some surface in the Demon world. Dante waited for a couple of minutes and was on the point of leaving for the agency when someone started to write back.

'Mato,' said the blurry letters through the rainwater that tried to wash them away.

'I don't fuckin' have it!' Dante hit the wall with his fist. 'You idiot you took it with you!'

'Now of all times! Whoever you are,' he threatened the inscriptions. 'You shall not have it. If you want the blade that much, come find it.'

Dante swung around, cold, wet and enraged, and rushed out of the narrow street.

...

Dante could not sleep. He tried to think of where Yamato could really be. About 6 am it struck him. He rushed up the stairs to the bedroom. Former bedroom, one could say, as now he practically lived on the couch, which was his bed, his work-space and his resting place.

The former bedroom space at the moment was used for good old things like photo albums, antique books, maps and ancient devil arms that were valuable but no longer of use. That thing must have been there as well.

Dante slammed the door wide open and crushed everything in his way; he crawled under his former bed. There, among other filthy boxes and rags, all covered in dust and dirt, was a long velvet case with a golden cord around it. Not believing his eyes, Dante cautiously took the case downstairs. In one big swing he wiped everything from his table: the litter, the magazines, the telephone even; and put the case right in the center, as if it were a treasure.

Well, it was a treasure of sorts. Slowly Dante undid the cord and opened the case. There lay Yamato. A perfect sword in a perfect sheath. Dark blue as a winter's night, hiding the blade colder than ice and faster than the wind.

The request made sense now. But how did Yamato get in there?

Dante remembered. That day was extremely hot, the day he got the case.

An old lady, all trembling from age, stopped with her cart near the agency and for the whole day was selling inoperative devil mechanisms as toys to children. He did not like it at first. But then seeing that the machines were truly broken and harmless it seemed fine. In the evening, when the old lady had most of her precious items sold out, Dante brought her some strawberry ice-cream. He did not mind sharing.

'Thank you m'boy', the lady lisped. 'Are you new here? Haven't seen your place before.' She asked, eyeing him cunningly.

'A couple o'years since I started working here. Does it bother you?'

'Would you really care what an old hag like me would say? Come on, boy. Better tell me, are you by any chance familiar with my toys? You seem like one of those who never give up the game of Humans and Devils.'

Dante was surprised she knew of the Demon world. That meant she understood what exactly she was selling. He had no choice but to guess for how long the old lady had traveled between the worlds.

'Yeah, I am still playing. A Devil at the Humans' side.'

'That's nice', she replied. 'And you seem to have the looks of a youngster I knew once. Sparda was his name, I believe.'

'You knew my father?'

'Father? Oh, m'boy, that clears up a lot. Here, let me give you something that should belong to you. But never open it unless… well, you know the procedure; unless the world falls apart and a great war breaks out… or something of sorts happens.' That said, the old lady rolled up the sleeves of her dark robe, revealing her wrists with numerous bracelets and talismans, and went searching in her knapsack. Having found nothing, she cursed – and that was the first time Dante heard someone curse so colourfully and in such a twisted manner – and finally she brought a case from the cart. She found it behind her shabby bags.

'Here, I'll give you a secret ace to hide up your sleeve. Have it.'

'What…' Dante tried to ask, but she insisted he left all the questions for the right time.

He liked the old hag from back then so he did never open the case. He put it under the bed as it was a valuable thing that had some connection with his father and there it stayed covered with dust until this morning.

But why Yamato? Did Vergil order the old merchant to bring it to him?

...

It was 10 in the morning. Dante way lying on the couch in a lazy-ass manner and in his hands was the blade. The sheath was lying in the case that was left on the table, and Dante was studying how the rays of light reflected on the fine steel. He still had not decided if he should inform the 'other side' that he did have the sword.

'Are ya there ya sonuvabitch?' yelled Trish kicking the door wide open. She spotted what had the appearance of the remnants of the man she called Dante. 'So I see Lady was right about you needing some hard training. Stand up!' She strode up to Dante and grabbed him by the wrist trying to get him on his feet.

'Woah, chill out, Trish. What on earth is the matter anyway? I am not going anywhere.'

'You bloody are. Today's the Dooms Day. Now get yourself together, we are going to the hospital.'

'Why the hell?' asked Dante angrily. There was no force in this world that could make him move anywhere, even if a new apocalypse was starting.

'Your brother is there.'

Well, maybe there was one.

It took Dante a moment to process the information and calculate that there was only one hospital where a demon could be and only one doctor who would take in a demon like Vergil. In a flash Dante grabbed Ebony and Ivory, fixed them in their holsters that he still wore under the shirt out of habit and then dashed out of the agency. He was definitely going for the motorcycle in front of Devil Never Cry, Trish noted, troubled. Her motorcycle.

'I am driving. If you want to go with me, hurry.' Starting the engine, Dante informed her, his face dead serious. Trish wisely chose not to complain and not to stay in the way of this walking killing machine which Dante was at the moment. As soon as she sat behind the devil hunter, the bike darted off with the speed she was not aware it possessed.

...

Driving through the streets, not paying any attention to traffic-lights, Dante was confused and scared. Why is Vergil here? Who did this to his brother and what exactly did they do? Is he alright? Is he… Dante just hoped Vergil lived though whatever he got himself into.

In the hospital Trish hardly kept up with the flying figure of the demon hunter, flawlessly rushing through the poorly lit up shabby halls. In an instant, she noticed, all the grace and elegance had come back to Dante, his skinny frame like the one of a demigod swooping down the corridors to catch a fallen angel. …maybe she should be a little less graphic in her descriptions. But the change in Dante was obvious.

He rushed downstairs, brushing by the old nurses who did not pay him any attention. Dante was the only figure full of life inside the cement walls painted by the damp patches, a strange appearance on the gloomy underground floor. Finally he made the last turn and it was the dead end. Near a small window – the only one on the whole floor, a person in the stained white doctor's smock stood.

'Schneider!' called Dante. Seeing him the doctor let go of his cigarette and stared.

'Get back to earth this very moment or I'll kill ya!' groaned Dante. 'How is he?!'

The doctor came to and tried to explain: 'I-I thought it was you, Dante, so I tried to patch him up…'

'How is he?!'

'Something like on the brink of dying.'

Dante fought the urge to throw everything away and find Vergil, be by his side and help. But he needed to stay sober and think clear. As clear as he could.

'Whadda hell happened?' Dante grasped the doctor by the collar and looking him right in the eye he hissed: 'Now you tell me properly.'

'When he was delivered about 80 percent of his skin was burned, he lacked an arm and one of his lungs was heavily damaged. Because of the dirt and ashes we had to remove several muscles. I thought it was you, so all the internal organs are still untouched, though there had been some requests from the black market.'

'Thanks for that,' said Dante, but it sounded more like a threat. 'So?'

'Now he is unconscious, no one would be able to stand this pain anyway. We did not have any identity confirmation and also there is no explanation as to why he is in this state. We can not get him artificial skin. And the chances of him regenerating his skin are practically zero.'

Dante let go of the doctor and frantically searched for a brilliant idea to save Vergil. He was definitely not letting his brother die.

'Where is he?'

'Here,' Schneider made a vague gesture towards an inconspicuous door at the very end of the dirty corridor.

'You know how to deal with a blood loss, right doc? Get prepared. In a couple of minutes I will be knocked out cold,' warned Dante and disappeared in the room.

Trish sighed. 'He was like a living corpse throughout the last two months. And then I go and mention his brother being in danger and he is all raving and kicking ass.'

'Is that his brother? Cause he seriously might die.'

'You underestimate those devils, Schneider. I have seen much worse things. But did you really have to tell him about Vergil's chances of getting better being about zero? You scared the shit out of Dante.'

'Regard that as revenge. This asshole scared the shit out of me. First, I thought it was him dying. Then I thought he'd kill me just 'cause he was upset.'

'Well, these are the perks of your job.'

'Yeah, and mind you, I don't get paid for it.'

'No wonder your service is shit. Hope at least you wash your hands and scalpels.'

'You better not bet on it,' Schneider bent down, picked up the butt of his cigarette and threw it into the ashtray on the window. 'I'll prepare the blood. Be right back.'

'Okay, because I am not going in there.' Trish looked at the closed door and sat on the battered bench in the corner. How the hell did Dante's life turn out this way? Everything was a mess.

...

As soon as Dante entered, he felt his legs almost give way. All around the room was tubing and a person way lying on a bed, his whole body covered with cloth. Shuddering, Dante approached the person and tore the cloth from his face. It really was Vergil's face, even if there was only half of it there.

'What did you do?' Dante asked almost hysterically.

Wasting no time, the demon hunter found a scalpel inside one of the drawers of the bedside table. He hastily stripped off his shirt and threw it away, then sat on the bed and lifted Vergil's head, holding him firmly, bringing his brother's lips close to his chest.

'I never did this. I just hope it works.'

Dante put the scalpel against the hollow of his throat and cut deep along the collar-bone up to his shoulder. Somewhere along the way he must have ripped through an artery, as the thick scarlet liquid began to flow down fast, covering Vergil's face. It was absorbed almost instantly by the hungry cells of his twin's demonic body.

'It does work,' Dante somehow calmed down. The blood was pouring down luxuriously in wide streams. The heartbeat indicator manifested, that Vergil's heart was beating faster with every second and eventually got up to the needed number of beats a minute. That is, for a devil.

Vergil would live. Freed from fear and panic, Dante felt sadness and guilt wash over him. He should have been there when it happened. He should have prevented Vergil from being hurt. Instead of basking in self-pity he should have stayed by his brother's side, fuck all Vergil's 'I hate you brother' stuff. He could have managed all that.

Vergil's locks were still snow-white; the skin was still aristocratically pale. The only eye Vergil now had was closed. It seemed like the demon had a hard day and trying to fall asleep, but could not stop thinking about something worrisome.

Dante tenderly took Vergil's hand. The new skin had just started to cover the tissues. Regardless he intertwined their fingers.

'Do not be troubled,' Dante ensured his brother. 'I will protect you like I should have done from the very beginning. Promise, I will take care of you. I swear on this blood carrying my life to you.'

Feeling tired, Dante leaned to the side against the back of the bed. 'Do you remember, brother,' he whispered, 'it was me who would doze off with my head in your lap. I guess you have already forgotten, huh? Sorry now I am so tired… Believe me, you will be okay. I will just close my eyes for a second… just for a second…'

...

When Dante woke up he was faced with a cold glare. Vergil was lying still in his lap. The room around was hell: corpses and blood all over the place. Bones stuck up from the torn flesh. It was dark and only some light came from the broken old lamp on the bedside table.

Dante felt hot tears run down his cheeks.

'Stop it, please… I know you can stop it…' he hugged Vergil and clung to him for dear life. 'Please, don't…' But it was already too late: his brother's body started to disintegrate to molecules and evaporate into crimson mist, leaving heavy red dew around. With every centimeter of Vergil's body disappearing Dante felt desperation grow, his heart ice cold and lead fear filling his lungs. He was muttering pleas. Dante recklessly begged, begged for Vergil not to leave him.

When just his head was left in Dante's hands, Vergil said idly: 'Foolishness, Dante. Foolishness. Can ruin everything.' And the last remnants of his brother shattered down in red and white rain of tissues and bone dust.

Dante sat quietly. He slowly embraced himself, looking straight but seeing nothing. Then suddenly bending down under the weight of the loss - he screamed.

Screamed out of emptiness.

Screamed out of vainless.

Just screamed.

Next, everything stopped. His heart broke, quiet literally, in his chest - the sphere of pain burst and eternal torment oozed from under his ribs. Dante fell and absently perceived that he was lying in the blood. It splashed and welcomed him. He drowned.

But the pain never left. Never.

... endo chap01 ...

Next: The mood lightens up considerably, Vergil switches on. Is he polite and good? WTF?

Don't forget to tell me your opinion on my scribblings!

See ya in chap 02,

Ethan


	2. Sleeping Beauty wakes up

Dante woke up with a start. He was lying in bed. The air smelled of a hospital.

"Vergil," he looked around searching for his brother. Vergil lay on the other bed, next to him. His body has already regenerated the skin, and the wounds have already healed, at least on the outside. Vergil was resting.

Relieved, Dante leaned back and closed his eyes, sinking into the pillows. Why were pillows there? It must have been Trish, who brought them there. Schneider would have never done so, he was too lazy.

'Who is there?' whispered Vergil.

Afraid, Dante pretended he did not hear.

'I know you are there, please answer me.'

Vergil was being polite, and not in an aggressive manner. That was rare. Anyway, that would be really rude to leave a polite request from an injured person unanswered. Dante slowly got up. Seeing now that his clothes were still on him, he left the blanket and moved over to his brother's bed, sitting beside him

'Hey, how are you feeling?' Dante put his hand on Vergil's shoulder and squeezed a little.

'Where am I?'

'A hospital. In the human world. Your trip turned out to be a little rough, didn't it?'

'Yeah. Still, who are you? Your voice seems familiar,' Vergil opened his eyes and looked at Dante, who almost jumped off the bed that very instant. However, all Vergil saw was darkness.

'Have you lost your sight?' asked Dante anxiously.

'Yes and no. It is only temporary. Part of the price for the ticket here.'

Dante sighed, relieved. 'Why are you here anyway?'

'I am looking for a man. His name is Dante. He owns an agency that takes up any dirty demon-connected job.'

Distressed at this declaration, as a gesture of unconscious self-defense, Dante felt the urge to hug himself, but he just kept stroking Vergil's shoulder. Dante was suddenly feeling cold, his heart frozen in the ice cage of his chest. Did Vergil want to kill him? Did he just want Yamato back?

'Why do you need him?'

'Why should I trust you with my answer?'

'Because I am a human that happens to know this person you need?'

'Alright, I'll tell you. Honestly, I can not remember a lot of things because I was in between the worlds for too long. But I recall that this was the man to turn to if everything went really bad.'

Vergil thinking of him as a last hope? No freaking way!

'And he also should know where my brother is.'

Dante could not believe what he heard. Vergil was convinced that his brother and Dante from the agency were two different people. Well, to have memories that messed up you have to stay like for eternity between the worlds.

'And what is the name of that brother of yours?'

'Don't know. The more I try to think of it, the more my head hurts. I believe though that this person, Dante, will help me. It feels like he had always been there for me.'

Now, something was really wrong with Vergil. Thinking of Dante as reliable? As help? As being there for him, always?

It hurt Dante. He wished it was the Vergil he knew - telling him these words, openly. He wished he could be useful, at least once.

Maybe he finally had a chance.

'How long will it take for your eyes to heal?'

'I will have to order a remedy. The one that comes not from the human world. If I could only find that person…'

'Okay, shut up for now. I will see what I can do. Seems strange though, the Vergil I heard of being so talkative, letting a complete stranger know so much.'

'So you know me.'

'You have no fuckin' idea how much I know you. You are my bloody nightmare.'

'Is that so. Anyway, consider my inability to move and the loss my of sight. I have no memories whatsoever about anyone, apart from this Dante person, who could be of some help to me. I guess it would be my priority to try to befriend someone in order to get things going.'

'Well this sounds more like the full-of-crap smartass that you are.'

'Thanks for the compliment. And you sound like that shitty crackpot I have the misfortune to be the brother of. Is he by any coincidence an acquaintance of yours, that wag?'

How could Vergil not remember his own brother?

'Maybe… just… shut up already, stop babbling and rest. When your noble ass arrived to our hellhole of the world, you had almost all your skin burned off. And I must point out, you still lack an arm.'

'I do? I do not feel half of my body, so I can't tell.'

'Of course you don't feel anything! You have more painkillers in you than blood. Regeneration brings horrible pain, so consider yourself lucky.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

Dante went silent. It was so nice to have this stupid chitchat with his brother. So nice and unbelievable. It made Dante angry. He did not want to pretend anymore, he did not want to hear insults. He did not want to fight with Vergil. Tired of all this save-the-world bullshit, Dante wanted to talk to Vergil about clothes, guitars, girls… For once, he longed for a couple of friendly words from his brother.

'Oi, Dante, you up already?' Trish opened the door, holding a couple of packs with blood for Vergil.

'So you are Dante?' Vergil stated, stunned at the revelation.

'Trish, you have the worst timing ever,' came Dante's sepulchral voice.

'Oh, and he is also awake. Here's the blood for the patient.'

'Throw that trash away,' Dante frowned, glaring daggers at Trish. She obediently flung the packs to the bedside table and leaned onto the wall.

'How did the heartwarming reunion go?'

'Your word choice is more than tactless, Trish. Listen, if you really want it so much, we'll talk about family problems later, mum. For now let me introduce Vergil to you, a demon who had his memories muddled up, who seeks the help of a man by the name of Dante – your humble servant here – and who can recollect nothing of his brother. Even the name'.

'Now that is a surprise. We will talk of family matters at home, my dear son, now that much is evident. And I feel honored to be able to meet you again, Vergil.'

'Did we meet before?' inquired the latter weekly.

'I am Trish. I helped you flee from Mundus after your small failure, remember?'

'I see. Nice to see… more like, nice to hear you again. I am temporarily blind.'

'That explains a lot,' Trish eyed Dante sitting near Vergil with his hand on his brother's shoulder.

'You helped him?'

'Talk at home, my dear son, I never knew if he escaped,' smiled Trish.

'Fine, fine. As of today I guess I will be helping this arrogant twit with whatever problems he got in the Demon world.'

'You sure?' Trish doubted if Dante was able to endure this confused Vergil.

'I have decided. Or would you rather I went back to my couch?'

'Nope, let it be like you say!' horrified by the purple couch threat, Trish quickly agreed.

'So… I'd like to take Vergil…' his brother's name was unfamiliar to his tongue. So strange: a name that was always on his mind was so difficult to say aloud. 'ho… I mean, to Devil Never Cry.'

"I want to take you home, brother."

'To that tornado-stricken dump of yours?'

'Not an expert on running a household, are you, Dante?'

'Guess not,' hearing his name spoken by Vergil's lips sent a shiver of desperation down Dante's spine. 'Could you… refrain from calling me that, please?'

'Alright, why?'

'Brings back unpleasant memories.'

'Tied by the past, just like me, huh? I have a number of matters left unsettled. Like the one with this jester of a brother of mine.'

'What with your brother?'

'When I finish my business with the Demon world, I have to find him and give him one good spanking.'

Trish had never before seen Dante showing so much and so little emotion at the same time as during this short conversation. Now again the shadow of well-hidden grief made Dante's face look too serious. Some inner reflex dulled his ability to feel pain, saving the demon hunter from breaking down.

'Why so?' he took his hands off Vergil and carefully placed them on his knees, keeping himself from any unnecessary words or actions.

Too composed, too distant, this person sitting near Vergil was not like Dante at all.

'Apart from being an insolent jerk, he…he was in my way to getting power I needed so much.'

'Why did you need it?'

Trish saw Dante's hands tremble. He could not stand this conversation anymore. His head down, Dante was shaking like a child scared to death.

'I needed it! I need it for…'

Vergil stilled suddenly, no traces of confidence left. He smiled bitterly. 'I do not remember.'

'Relax, you will, it's just a matter of time,' was Dante's cold reply.

Vergil was in panic though.

'No, you… you do not understand. Now that all my memories are mixed up, I do not distinguish between what happened yesterday and what was ten years ago… Now as I see all my past as one day… I did not really… The power never was my ultimate goal. Hell!.. Did I hate my own brother because of…

The lies and the flattery… Did I… What if… what if all this time I hated and hurt him with for no serious reason?.. Or did I forget the reason so important? I, I need to find him. Hey, I remember you were a man to rely on, will you help me out? Dante? You hear me?'

A trembling hand lay on Vergil's forehead gently, reassuring him.

Trish felt like she should leave immediately, but she was afraid of moving or making any noise.

Covering his face with his hand, Dante was biting his lips till they bled. In the silence that had sat in the room, the only sound was Dante's uneven breath. Hot and salty, tears were running down his cheeks, there was no stopping them now.

Dante cried, his whole body trembling, heart beating too fast, lungs constricting violently.

'Dante, you alright? Will you help me?' whispered Vergil his request quietly.

'I will,' Dante breathed out, stood up and hiding his face behind his long dirty white locks, stormed out of the room.

'Is he fine?' asked Vergil.

'He will be,' said Trish. 'Knowing him, he is much more of a devil than all of the Demon world. And devils don't cry.'

'Starting his agency, he stated the opposite.' Replied Vergil. 'He seemed to me much more of a human than all of the human world. And those are not human who have never cried.'

'Do not forget these words you have just said, Vergil. When he is back, tell him I am waiting outside.'

'I thought he would not want to see me yet. It seems I said something… rather upsetting. I did not mean it though.'

'This you tell him yourself. And yes, he will come back in like five minutes. Did he not say he will help you? He keeps his word.' With that, Trish left Vergil alone.

...

'Fuck,' Dante again splashed cold water in his face. It was dark in the restroom, and dirty. Actually, now finally looking at himself in the mirror, he had to agree that he fit in the room perfectly. Having seen Vergil, in all his grace even on the hospital bed, Dante felt like a rug. For the first time in a long time, he admitted it. And he did not like it.

If he was going to stay by Vergil's side, he should at least have a decent appearance.

Vergil… It was all like a fuckin' joke. Of course, Dante would help his brother out. He would order the remedy for his eyes. But he wouldn't tell him a word about their past. If Vergil remembered – then fine. If not – Dante would tell him only when all the business was taken care of. If by that time he'd be able to make himself tell Vergil the truth.

The thing that really made Dante's heart ache was the sudden revelation of Vergil not really hating him. Lies and flattery, he said? Was it even possible to manipulate Vergil? Vergil wanting to meet his brother, wanting to sort things out. This new sides of his brother that Dante thought he would never see now opened a whole new world of possibilities.

'Doesn't matter now,' Dante told his reflection. 'I have to heal Verge first, then take him home, then help him. Everything else will turn out all right.'

"But shit," he was thinking, hurrying back to the room. "I should have been better at keeping cool."

'I'm back,' Dante closed the door behind him but did not dare sit on the bed again.

'I would like to apologize,' Vergil stated.

'Never you mind,' Dante stopped him. 'I would like to take you with me to Devil Never Cry. It will be easier for me to treat you there and doc will surely appreciate you moving out.'

'Alight. Haven't I said that I have already chosen you as the one I trust?'

'I do not remember you ever trusting anyone. That means if I am not needed anymore I am pretty likely to be disposed of.'

'I can assure you, you are safe until I take care of the Demon world rebellion.'

'There was a rebellion down there?'

'Yes, it happened…'

'No, we'll talk later. I have to go back and prepare for you moving in. Then I'll fetch you.'

'Fine. And Trish is waiting for you outside. She brought something, it is on the table.'

'It's blood,' Dante gave the packs a sarcastic look. 'You are not having any of this water in your veins. I'll give you some fine medicine when we are at home. So forget this crap,' that said, the bloody packs faced the trash bin.

' 'be back soon.'

'I know,' chuckled Vergil.

...

Dante sat behind Trish, she was driving him home.

'So now what?' she asked curiously.

'I'll do what he asks for.'

'Is that all?'

'For now – that is enough for me.'

"That's right," thought Dante, "Vergil is by my side. This is a good start. This is enough."

Enthusiastically opening the door to the agency, Dante stopped dead in his tracks.

'Helluva dump after a nuclear war!' he exclaimed, either shocked or perversely proud.

'This is about how Lady described it to me. Seems she was right. But I am glad you see it from this point of view, too. She nearly scared me to death, painting your current lifestyle in the brightest colors possible. Now it's time you make amends to me for the moral damage I suffered.'

'And how do you suppose I do that,' Dante turned back to look at her.

'Clean up this mess,' Trish smiled charmingly.

'I guess I have no choice anyway, since Vergil will be moving in,' stomping mercilessly on the carton packages and plastic cups, kicking empty whiskey bottles away, Dante rammed into Devil Never Cry.

...

When Trish returned to the agency in three hours the premises shined with neatness. Well, at least neatness how Dante understood it.

The litter was gone as well as the spider webs and dust. Looking at the floor, Trish noticed, surprised, that it was actually parquet. Dante even got a nice bloody-red carpet from some hidden storeroom and it was now placed accurately in front of the desk. For once, on the working-desk there actually were papers. Not in the bin, not under the couch, but actually at the working place. For real.

The drum set and the jukebox stood lined in the corner, the guitars hanging on the wall above them. And the guitars really were collected from all rooms and put on one wall.

The chairs were not upside down and the billiard table was free of junk food and porno magazines. A set of cues was nearby, none of them broken. You could actually play billiard there.

In the middle of it was Dante on the floor, scrapping an old gum off it. He himself was a mix of stains and dirty clothes: around his neck hung a pair of trousers, three ruined shirts and a bunch of neckties. Trish knew he always lost ties and bought new ones. So finding them all found he had quite a collection.

'I am done!' Turning to Trish's silhouette in the door frame, Dante finally declared, shining like a newly polished fork.

'Almost,' Trish corrected and pointed at the mirror.

'This does not count. He won't see me anyway,' the fork dared to talk back.

Grabbing Dante by the shirt, Trish shoved him into the bathroom.

There was nothing a fork could do in the face of an asphalt compactor.

...

A warm wet heaven. Dante moaned leisurely. White soaked locks plastered to the skin, thin water streams on his relaxed shoulders, roaming tenderly down his body. It was hard to breathe in this heat and his lips parted, Dante inhaling the moist air. He turned over, warmth washing over him, and placed his cheek against the cold tiles. He moaned again.

'Are you masturbating there or what?' Trish asked worriedly.

'I am soaking, you perverted bitch!' Dante shouted back and dissolved into the water.

Some moment later Dante entered the lobby of Devil Never Cry all clean and shiny and naked.

'Of course, I do not mind your birth suit.' Sitting on a chair, Trish put down the newspaper.

Dante jerked up and grabbed the first thing available – which was a pack of bills from the desk – and covered himself from the lecherous eyes, sweeping all the papers from the desk to the floor along with the telephone in the process.

'And here I thought there was a slight possibility of Devil Never Cry not being a mess.'

'Now, you, get outta my place!' Dante threw the 8 ball at Trish. She dodged, to his greatest disappointment.

While Dante was looking for his jeans in the heap of clothes on the couch, Trish studied his body. He did not look like an heir of the demon blood. More like…

'You look like a drug addict going on without a dose for months. Skin and bone.'

'You can relax. The drug arrived today, in the morning,' joked Dante. Or at least it seemed to be a joke.

'By the way, how are you going to take this drug of yours to this place? I am not letting you drive my motorcycle again.'

'Don't need that,' Dante found his black jeans and now was trying to put himself into them.

'Do you not need some, say, underwear?'

'Do not say such scary words in my presence,' he finally did fit in the jeans and went on searching for his red All Star skate shoes. 'And remind me, why are you here while I am dressing?'

'Hm.'

'Wait for me outside if you want. I'll go get a pumpkin for our katana-wielding Cinderella.'

And so she waited in front of the main entrance to Devil Never Cry, leaning onto her motorcycle. In about twenty minutes the pumpkin arrived in the form of an azure Jaguar, Dante driving in a fresh white shirt and a dark blue necktie askew.

'Hop in,' he said, putting on the sunglasses. 'Time to fetch Cindy-girlie.'

'One Cinderella fetching another. This is something new.'

'Hell, why am I a Cinderella?'

'Because you finally look like the fairy has worked on you.'

'I have nothing to do with fairies or any queer folk for that matter, you one-way-minded woman.'

Trish just laughed and left Dante's troubled mind to its own devices.

...

He felt them getting closer and then they went into the room: Trish and Dante. She smelled of vanilla. He smelled of air after the rain and of storm. Vergil was still unable to move and no wonder they thought he was…

'Asleep,' Trish stated. 'You go wake him.'

The old bed creaked, and Dante's hand lightly touched his shoulder.

'He is not asleep, Trish, he is just resting. You wouldn't know, since you were not born a demon, you were created. A real demon wouldn't sleep unless he feels absolutely safe. This place definitely does not meet Vergil's definition of safe.'

Vergil could not help but chuckle. "This Dante does know what he is dealing with. He could be a demon himself if he wasn't so apparently human. Wait, in the morning Trish did not mean he was one, did she?"

'See, he is awake.' Dante must have taken the blanket off his chest. It was chilly. 'Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. I brought you new clothes.'

'How about a wake-up kiss then?'

'Dude, kissing your own…'

"…brother is not right." Dante almost slipped, but was lucky enough to notice the scary face Trish made. Instead, he said:

'What is it with you people these days? And Trish, go out, I'll dress Verge up.'

He heard the sound of the door opening and then closing. The voice that called him 'Verge' sounded painfully familiar. It had the sharp edge that reminded Vergil of old times when he had fencing training with his brother. This voice brought up the memories of sunny days, when they would lie in the grass, too exhausted to move. Then cautious fingers would try to take his hand, but he would get angry and say it was childish, he would always smile though. He knew that longing to feel loved and needed. It drove him crazy, too. However, he'd say:

'Cut it out.' The words came out aloud.

'Look, I have to change your clothes now. So do not complain,' Dante's reply snapped Vergil back to reality.

The devil hunter was indeed very carefully putting the clothes on Vergil's naked body.

'Do I look bad?'

Dante fastened the buckle on his brother's jeans and looked at him. Regenerated, his skin was smooth and pale; Vergil's body was still in a good shape, as if he had never stopped training; casual clothes fit him perfectly; messy hair on the pillow and the hollow stare of azure eyes. Vergil still looked way better than Dante on his best day.

'Like shit,' Dante spat out. 'Now sit, I'll put on your shirt. Hell, you still haven't regenerated your arm. The shirt will have wait.'

'I can not control it because I do not feel pain,' Vergil commented.

'Forget it, I'll help you. I have a remedy for you, but you have to promise never to ask me where I get it from.'

'Is it prohibited?'

'No, just top secret,' the devil hunter took a syringe out of his pocket.

'Then I do not care.'

'Good.'

Dante observed as the syringe was filling with dark thick blood, then took it out. The needle slipped out his vein. He tore all the bandages from Vergil's right shoulder and injected the blood right in the wound that already opened again.

'What is it?' asked Vergil, trying to move, but he could only lift his left shoulder a little and turn his head.

'Is it hurting you?' there was care in Dante's voice.

'No. This is strangely pleasant. Warm. And calming.'

'Are you kidding me? It does not hurt?' Dante looked, amused, at the bones that formed right in front of his eyes. On the blanket the new muscles stretched from Vergil's shoulder and then the tissues started pulsing with blood and skin finally covered his hand up to the neat nails.

Dante remembered he lost a finger. He got a pack of donor blood. It hurt like hell, he screamed his lungs out that evening. Was there really a way for regeneration to be pleasant?

Whatever. Vergil was lying here on the bed, smiling peacefully.

'I do not know what that remedy was, but it worked, I feel much better now.'

'It was the one that brought you back from the dead this morning. You already had about a liter or two of it.'

'No wonder I recovered so fast.'

'So, here, let me finally put the shirt on you. It is dark blue like you always want, so be happy.'

The door to the corridor opened and Trish started laughing, standing up from the bench. Dante was carrying Vergil, the older twin's hand was back in place. Dante was serious and concentrated. But it did not matter – he was alive and ready to kick ass. Just like he should have always been.

'This is gonna be fun,' Trish told herself and dialed Lady.

... endo chap02 ...


End file.
